Two Contradictory Ideas
by Fleur27
Summary: When Nate needs help recovering a stolen painting, he turns to Sophie.....Nate/Sophie, set pre-series


Disclaimer: I own nothing here and am just doing this for fun and to ease my new-found Leverage addiction. Pre-series, no real spoilers.

Written for: lovesrogue36's prompt at leveragekink: 'Nate/Sophie, fugitives on the run.' Beside the prompt, this story is inspired by the video conversation between Tara and Sophie in "The Runway Job" where Sophie tells Tara to ask Nate about something that happened on the Russian border.

A/N: My motto is 'never let the facts get in the way of a good story.' I did a bit of research, but could only track down replicas of the Kandinsky painting, Mit und Gegen - .. For the purpose of this fic, the original is 20"x24" oil on canvas.

I've also made up everything involving travel and the geography of Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan, so just go with it, please. :)

As for where this fits in the Leverage-verse, it pre-dates the series by maybe six years. (i.e. Nate's still married and his kid is still healthy.)

* * *

When Nate heard that his client, the Volgograd Museum of Art, was going to host a Kandinsky retrospective, his stomach sank. No matter how much things had changed in Russia, assembling that much priceless artwork in one place was just asking for trouble. He convinced the museum to hire extra security and upgrade their electronic systems, but he still knew that at least one painting, maybe more, was going to take a walk.

It's not that he held his breath for the three weeks that the exhibition ran, but he did, foolishly, allow himself to feel a little more confident with each day that passed without a theft. He was nearly ready to suggest to Maggie that they go out to celebrate when the call came in from the flustered head of museum security. _Mit und Gegen_ had been taken while they were packing up the paintings after the exhibition had closed.

Nate sighed and began packing his bags to go to Volgograd. He both loved and loathed his bluetooth headset, which allowed him to call his sources and attempt to gather intel as he chucked underwear and socks into the open suitcase on the bed.

Maggie drifted into the room, frowned, kissed him on the cheek and ran a hand soothingly over his chest, before she drifted back out. He was blessed; he knew that. Most wives were not nearly so understanding. It helped that she trusted him.

Nate carefully slid pressed oxford shirts and a couple of suits into his garment bag. The headset trilled in his ear and he took the new call, glad to hear a bit of useful information. The last person near the painting had been an intern, a college kid who just happened to be the son of the President of Uzbekistan.

Okay, he could work with that. He could definitely run a game on this kid. His source had said that kid had a weakness for the finer things in life, including high-end art work, expensive Scotch, and beautiful women.

He pulled out his Blackberry and sifted through his email, looking for Sophie's latest pre-paid disposable number. When she answered the call, the blush in his cheeks made him fidget, but he reminded himself that this was strictly a business call.

"I could use some help, Sophie. You have a few days to assist IYS as a special consultant?"

Her wry laughter tickled his ear. "Of course, Nate. What do you need?"

"The President of Uzbekistan's kid seems to have made off with a Kandinsky."

"Ah yes, you had me at Kandinsky. As a matter of curiosity, which one is it?"

"_Mit und Gegen_," said Nate.

"With and against. How...appropriate."

"Towards, Sophie. Gegen can also mean towards, depending on the context."

She laughed. "That's still appropriate, Nate."

He loosened his tie and steered the conversation back toward the business realm. He made arrangements to meet her in Tashkent in three days, and then disconnected the call with a curt goodbye.

Nate reach under his bed to find his most comfortable dress shoes. The plan and backup plans were unfurling in his head, but he'd been doing this long enough to know that anything could happen. He'd feel much better if he knew he had a decent pair of shoes that he could run in if needed.

---//---

Nate had booked adjoining rooms at one of the more upscale hotels in Tashkent. Sophie adjusted her blonde wig in the mirror, barely recognizing the woman under the blue eyeshadow and chunky jewelry in primary colors. The party girl look was one that Sophie tried to avoid, but she'd always known that she'd do just about anything if Nate Ford was the one making the request.

She pulled down her tight-fitting top a little and straightened her skirt, then picked up her purse and walked into Nate's room. He was looking out the window, humming a tune, a light melody that was both haunting and familiar. The words clicked into place and she was singing along before she could stop herself.

"_On the Raglan Road_

_of an autumn day, _

_I saw her first and knew, _

_that her dark hair _

_would be the snare _

_that I might one day rue. _

_I saw the danger _

_and I passed _

_along the enchanted way. _

_And I said 'let grief be a fallen leaf _

_at the dawning of the day.'" _

Nate turned around slowly, surprise and amusement in his eyes. He gave a few slow claps and she looked down, embarrassed.

"My father used to sing that song, for my mother," she said.

"Ah, he was a fan of Patrick Kavanagh?" asked Nate, slipping his hands in his pockets as he took a few lazy steps toward her.

"No, more like a fan of Luke Byrne... and dark-haired women," she replied, looking up through her hair as she felt her confidence returning. "And anyway, I'm a blonde today, you still think the snare will work?"

"Sophie, I don't think there's a man in the world who could resist you, no matter your hair color," he said, then he looked down with a smile and a little tilt of his head, like he was having a separate private conversation with himself.

"I don't know Nate, you seem to do a good job of it," she said, enjoying the blush that rose in his neck and cheeks.

He cleared his throat and looked away. When he looked back, he had his all-business face on. "Right... well, you ready? You know the plan?"

"Yes, Nate, I know the plan. Pull the kid, get him to take me to the President's residence. Slip the mickey in his Scotch," she paused to pull a small plastic bag out of her purse. "Grab the painting and then out the side entrance where you'll be running interference for me."

"You got it. Now, any questions? Concerns? Proposed changes?" asked Nate, his eyes looking right through her. She gave a huffy sigh and rolled her eyes. You change one little plan once and the man never forgets. It's like she'd insulted his manhood or something.

"No, Nate, no changes. And my only concern is that it seems like a horrible sacrilege to ruin a perfectly good glass of Scotch like that."

He smiled and nodded. "Indeed, it does. So let's make damn sure that Scotch doesn't die in vain, okay?"

---//---

Nate sat in a parked car, about half a block up from the side entrance to the President's residence. The vantage point gave him a clear view of the door and the guard post. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and watched a scratchy feed from the button cam he'd put on Sophie. So far, she'd managed to stick to Plan A.

Without an audio feed, Nate could only imagine what she had said to the kid. The way the kid's lips were moving, he suspected she'd gone with French, a flirty and knowing older woman speaking French would be irresistible to a college student with pretensions.

With only the button camera's feed, Nate couldn't see much of Sophie. He could definitely imagine how she looked at the kid, turning on the coquettish charm. Every so often, he caught glimpses of her hand ruffling the kid's hair or smoothly running over his cheek.

Sophie had been concerned that the kid would want to take her back to some dingy student flat in a dodgy neighborhood. But Nate had known that he would want to impress his date, that he'd bring her right back to Daddy's fancy palatial residence. It wasn't often that Nate one-upped Sophie in the people-reading department, so he'd take his victories where he found them.

Nate grinned as the kid settled next to Sophie on his bed. She draped herself over him, distracting him with a kiss. Nate caught her hand passing over the drink, deftly dropping the pill. When she pulled away, the kid looked dazed.

"You've got no idea what just hit you, do you, kiddo?" Nate murmured with a soft chuckle. He saw Sophie lift her glass, knew she was proposing a toast, then the kid took a long drink. A few minutes later, he blinked slowly, eyes struggling to focus. His head lolled back and Sophie gently arranged him on the bed.

Then she got up, went to the wall and grabbed the painting. She proceeded carefully down the hallway. Nate had a good memory and could picture the floor plan, easily marking her turns on the video feed against his mental map of the place. When she was nearly at the door, he turned on the car's headlights and pulled up to the side entrance.

Nate got out of the car with a map. He walked up to the guard house, an amiable yet confused look on his face. He couldn't speak Uzbek or Turkish, but he knew that he just needed to bluff for a bit and that Russian would do the job.

The guard met him at the open window and Nate unspooled a long, complicated story about his no-good brother-in-law and how Nate came to be driving his car and now he was lost. He was hoping to build a wall of distracting words, to keep the guards focused on him and not on their surroundings or video feeds.

He unfolded the map, blocking their view so Sophie could walk out with the painting. When Nate was sure that she was in the car, he started to nod and make exclamations of thanks and understanding. The guards looked both amused and confused as Nate made his escape back to the car.

"So, was he a good kisser, Sophie?" Nate asked, careful to keep his voice in the teasing range.

"No, he was a bloody nightmare. What is it about men? I swear your gender doesn't learn how to properly kiss until at least your late 20s. Slow learners, the lot of you," replied Sophie as she wiped her lipstick off with a tissue.

"Well, thanks for taking one of the team, then."

"You owe me."

"Sophie, I thought I explained, you're getting paid as a special consultant to IYS for this job."

"Yeah, Nate, but that was above and beyond. I deserve danger pay for that."

He sighed, putting on that he didn't enjoy this give-and-take as much as he actually did. "How many?"

"Two pairs. Jimmy Choos and Manolos."

"All right, provided we get the painting back to Volgograd in one piece."

It took an hour to drive to the spot on the border that Nate had selected for their crossing. They bantered playfully for a bit, but then lapsed into an easy, companionable silence. This was one of the things Nate enjoyed most about Sophie. She didn't feel the need to fill every second with a syllable. Often, she was content just to _be_ for a while.

---//---

Nate had explained this part of the plan to her three times back at the hotel room, but Sophie still didn't completely understand it. It seemed overly complex, but Nate insisted that they couldn't risk stopping at an Uzbeki border checkpoint. Sophie doubted the son would regain consciousness quickly enough to raise the alert, but Nate had insisted he wasn't taking any chances.

He pulled off the road on the edge of a farm and they got out of the car. Sophie walked back, her heels wobbling slightly in the soft grass, and waited for Nate to open the trunk. When he did, she laid the Kandinsky down on top of the luggage. It even looked good in the weak light provided by small plastic dome inside the trunk.

"It's beautiful," murmured Nate appreciatively.

Sophie pointed with one of her brightly colored fingernails. "I love the suggestion of a seascape, the ship with its towering triangular sales, the hint of wind. The compass."

"I thought that was the sun," said Nate.

"No, I think this is the sun." She pointed to the perfect circle just above the left-most triangles.

"You know that Kandinsky thought the circle was the most peaceful shape, that it symbolized the human soul."

"Yes, although I'm not sure I agree with him. The human soul isn't typically what I associate with peace," said Sophie as she pulled off her wig and shook out her dark hair.

"Maybe you're spending time with the wrong souls," said Nate, as he opened his suitcase, emptied out his clothes, and popped out the false bottom. He gently nestled the painting into its hiding place, and then repacked everything.

Sophie opened her small suitcase and took out a loose skirt, something that you might see on a hippie chick at a music festival. She pulled it on and then eased off the skirt she'd been wearing earlier. She turned away and pulled off her shirt, replacing it with a black peasant top with a vaguely Eastern European design embroidered along the top. She could feel Nate being busy, taking more time with his suitcase than was necessary.

"It's safe, Nate," she said, her casual tone intended to needle him just a little.

"Oh, yeah, I know. We're very safe here. I picked this place carefully," he replied, his tone suggesting that he was purposely misunderstanding her.

Sophie picked up her daisy-print wellies, perfect for a hippie chick rocking out at a music festival or a grifter sneaking across farmland from Uzbekistan to Kazakhstan. She kicked off her high heels and put a hand on Nate's shoulder for balance as she changed into the boots.

When she was done, she stepped back and gave a little twirl. "Well, what do you think?"

"Somehow, you make the outfit work. I'm not quite sure how and we don't really have time to figure it out."

"Well, Nate, if we're going to walk for miles and miles, I just want to be comfortable."

"We're not walking for miles and miles," he said as he lifted out both suitcases. He carried Sophie's and used the handle and wheels to drag his behind him. She tried to take her suitcase back but he moved it away with a shake of his head.

He led the way along the road, turning at the third tree he passed and then walking across the farmland in the direction of Kazakhstan. When they came to a wire fence, he set the luggage down, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a wire cutter. He snipped the wires easily and then held back the fence so Sophie could pass through. After he passed the luggage through the hole, he followed her into the field.

They walked toward the horizon, the only light coming from the nearly full moon. Sophie looked over at him often, enjoying the way he seemed just a little outside his comfort zone. Growing up in Boston, living in L.A., jetting to the European capitals to visit clients, she was guessing the breadth of his formidable experience didn't include much time spent on farms.

Her suspicion was confirmed when he stopped suddenly. "Those trees are moving right toward us."

"What trees?" she asked, confused.

"Over there," he hissed through his teeth, nodding directly to their right. She glanced over and laughed.

"Nate, those aren't trees, they're cattle."

"Cows?"

Sophie squinted through the silvery light, then took a few steps toward the herd. "Let me see... no, not cows."

"If they're not cows then what are they? Horses? Is my eyesight really that bad?" Nate put down the luggage and walked over to where Sophie was standing.

"The word cow, actually, only applies to female bovines. If it doesn't have an udder, then it's not a cow."

"So what are you telling me, Soph? We're in a field with bulls, heading right toward us?"

"No silly, they're bullocks... you know, castrated. What do you Americans call them.... steers. They're not dangerous, usually, just curious," she said, looking over at where a few of the bullocks had stopped, sniffing the air and eyeing the intruders.

Nate ran a hand over his mouth, pulling it back to reveal an embarrassed little grin. "Oh, right. Don't have many herds of bullocks roaming the streets of L.A."

"You are such a city boy," said Sophie as she fondly ruffled Nate's curls. "Nevermind the bullocks, we've got a train to catch."

Nate picked the luggage up and they resumed walking toward the border. "Sophie, how did you know that about cows and bullocks?"

She turned toward him slightly and cocked her head to the side. "Just lucky I guess," she said with a flirty smile. Distraction. When talk turned to her past, the right answer was always distraction.

---//---

Except for the run-in with the unexpected herd of cattle, Nate felt his plan was holding up well to the battle field. It took them about an hour to cross the border and then make their way to the dusty little train station, just a ramshackle ticket booth and a single platform. Their timing was good and they only had to wait an hour to board the train that would take them directly to Volgograd.

On the train, they managed to secure a private first-class enclosure. It was hardly the height of luxury, but it would at least mean they didn't have to sit with strangers. Nate put his suitcase on the bench next to him and threw his arm over it protectively. He stretched his legs out, closed his eyes, and for the first time in nearly two days, he allowed himself to relax a few degrees.

He opened one eye and looked at the bench across from him, where Sophie was now laying down, using her purse as a pillow. Her eyes were closed and he took a minute to appreciate her. He knew they had an odd relationship that most people wouldn't understand, but somehow, it made perfect sense to him.

Nate must have drifted asleep. He was surprised he'd let his guard down that far, but it seemed like he'd managed to sleep for at least several hours. He opened his eyes, confused by the soft dusky light filtering through the window. He looked at his watch, blinking in disbelief.

"Did I really just sleep for twelve hours?"

"You did. I figured you must need it. We'll be stopping at the Russian border soon, so I was going to wake you if you weren't up by then."

"That's nice of you," said Nate, standing up and feeling every joint in his body groan with stiffness. He excused himself and stumbled slowly out into the train car to the toilets, which were blessedly available. After relieving himself, Nate washed his face and hands, drying them on scratchy paper towels. He went to the snack car and bought a bottle of water, which he drank while he was still standing there.

Walking back to where Sophie was waiting, he felt more human and alert. He could hear the heavy step of boots through the carriage and could hear gruff, angry Russian. It sounded like a few of the train guards were looking for something or someone, but Nate's Russian wasn't good enough for him to know for certain.

He slid open the door to their compartment and sat down across from Sophie. "Sounds like the guards are looking for something or someone. Your Russian is better, you should go have a listen."

"But Nate, we'll be stopping at the border in a few minutes. I don't want us to get accidentally separated."

"Ah right, good point. Well, then I'll guess we'll just hope for the best and think on our feet if it comes to that.

"We're good at that," replied Sophie with a coy smile.

The train came to a stop. Sophie casually leaned her head against the glass and looked out, giving Nate the details of what she was seeing. Lots of guards. Some dogs. Guns.

They heard the hiss and pop as all the train's doors opened. The guards filed on to the train, making short work of checking the compartments.

"Nate, we're close to the door. We need a plan."

"I'm working on it."

They heard the click of the door to the next compartment opening.

"Forget a plan, we need a distraction," said Sophie.

"I'm thinking, I'm thinking," said Nate, waving one hand to shush her while he ran the one through his hair, his eyes glued to the door handle, which was going to start moving any second.

Sophie got up and walked purposefully across the car. She handed him their two fake passports, then pushed Nate back against his suitcase and sunk slowly to her knees. She put her hands on his hips and looked up at him. "Relax, Nate. Just trust me."

"I do, it's just... Maggie."

"I know, Nate," said Sophie, her hands moving to his belt where her fingers lightly undid the buckle, then the button.

His breath caught in his throat as she eased down his zipper. His hands closed firmly over hers. "You have to stop."

"You have to relax and trust me," she said, looking up at him with serious eyes. She pulled out half of his shirt tail and then eased her hands back over to his hips.

He closed his eyes and let his hands tangle in her hair, telling himself that it was an insurance policy. If she tried to cross a line, he would there to pull her back. At least that's what he told himself.

Their compartment door opened with a snap and two border guards burst in. Nate tossed their passports to the nearest guard with a terse request to hurry up. Sophie stayed still and Nate could feel the tension in her shoulders. He could also feel her warm breath on his crotch, but he was trying not to think about that.

The guard shuffled through the passports as Nate grumbled ominously in Russian about knowing people who are supposed to make sure these sorts of inconveniences didn't occur. After several agonizing minutes that felt more like hours, the guards left with a sheepish apology.

Sophie breathed a sigh of relief and eased back across the compartment to her bench, but Nate silenced her with an upraised finger. As he put himself back together and tucked his shirt in, his ears strained for conversation in the hallway. He didn't hear them discussing what they'd just walked in on, but he did catch something about making a call to check things out.

He reminded himself that it's not paranoia if people really were out to get you. "Sophie, something's not right. We have to get out of here."

"But how?"

He looked around the compartment and picked up Sophie's small suitcase. He had a quick look out the window, but there were guards on the platform. He opened his suitcase and emptied it of whatever he could easily replace, then dumped the contents of Sophie's suitcase into his. He took her hand, then slowly opened the door. The guards were in a cluster, but luck was with him because they were distracted by a static-y radio. He eased out into the corridor and into the opposite compartment, which was blessedly empty.

When Sophie was safely inside, he shut the door. Then he took a deep breath, reared back, and kicked the window. He was heartened to see a crack form immediately, and it took only a few more kicks for the glass to give. He knocked the shards out and then climbed out of the window. Sophie passed the suitcase down to him, and then climbed out gracefully, waving off his assistance as she smiled.

---//---

Chance favored Nate Ford, Sophie knew that. Still, she was surprised that they had such an easy time sneaking away from the heavily guarded train station on the Russian border. They'd slunk through the fields, using the wheat for cover as they kept their course parallel to the tracks for about thirty minutes. After it seemed that they were well clear of the station, they changed direction to head toward the border.

They were quiet, the only sounds in the air were the cawing crows circling the fields. They saw a farmhouse and headed in that direction, Sophie's steps buoyed when she spotted an ancient Trabant about halfway to house. Maybe it was silly, but it reminded her a little of the Ford Anglia her parents had had when she was a child.

While Sophie was distracted by memories of trips to Cambridge in the Ford Anglia, the two border guards seemed to appear out of nowhere, like in a film. One second, Nate and Sophie were traipsing through a field, the sun setting in their eyes against a rosy orange backdrop. The next second, two towering shadows loomed before them, causing Nate to curse under his breath.

He stopped suddenly, dropping the suitcase behind Sophie and telling her to stand still. Then he approached the guards slowly and steadily until he was standing right between them. Nate had a cocky smile on his face when he looked up at the larger guard and started insulting him, first saying nasty things about his mother and then casting aspersions on his manhood.

Sophie could see the guard's fingers twitching on his gun and she worried that Nate was going to get himself shot. When Nate moved on to suggesting untoward things involving the guard and farm animals, the man had finally had enough. Turning at the waist, he aimed the butt of his gun at Nate and twisted, aiming to knock him out. Nate ducked and the guard instead knocked out his colleague. While he was still standing there dumbfounded, trying to process the events, Nate head-butted the man, following it up with a solid punch to the jaw.

"Nicely played," she said with a cheery grin.

"You don't have to sound so surprised," replied Nate, his breath coming in sharp bursts. He leaned over the larger guard and started to strip his clothes, taking the uniform as his own. Sophie didn't bother to look away, she just leaned against a tree and watched, letting the discomfort belong to Nate alone.

When he was dressed, the jacket hanging awkwardly on his smaller frame, he stripped down the second guard and tossed the clothes to Sophie. While she changed, he hauled the guards over to the Trabant.

"Soph, come here, you gotta see this," he said, laughing.

She walked over, wincing at how her daisy print boots showed underneath the hem of the guard pants. She didn't have her police-issue pair of oxfords with her, since this hadn't seemed like the sort of job that would require it.

"What?" she asked, her grumpy tone a result of the poor fashion choice and the long day.

Nate gestured into the half-open window of the Trabant, and Sophie blinked as she processed the image. Standing in the front seat, his heat sticking out the driver's side window, was white billy goat, his bristly beard falling over the edge of the window.

"How in the hell did he get in there?" she asked.

"No idea. It's perfect though," replied Nate as he gestured for Sophie to help him. Together, they dragged both guards into the Trabant and left them there, then continued to the farmhouse.

---//---

Sophie had never thought she'd be to see Volgograd, but, when they exited the highway into the city, she was. The last leg of the journey had been the least eventful, but in many ways, it had been the most stressful. All those hours with Nate, that moment in the train car hanging between them, neither of them willing to talk about it.

She spend most of the time pretending to sleep while Nate drove. It was a double-edged sword, this weird relationship she had with him. The flirtation was fun because he'd never cheat on his wife, which made it safe and easy. She never had to worry about him taking things too far. But then, it was frustrating as hell to know that he'd never cheat on his wife.

Holding these two contradictory ideas in her head, knowing that however intense the attraction, neither of them would ever act on it, made it difficult to be around him for longer than a few hours at a time. Having just spent nearly three days with him, Sophie was ready to put some distance between them.

Nate pulled up in front of a hotel, turned off the truck and turned to Sophie. "This work for you?"

"Actually, Nate, if it's all the same to you, I think the job is done now and we should go our separate ways. You stay here, I'll take the one across the street."

"Oh right, yeah, yeah, of course," said Nate, the disappointment just a momentary flash on his face that Sophie would've missed had she not been looking for it.

"I'm sure you're ready for some quiet time. And, of course, to get home to your family."

"Yeah, hey, just hold on a second, okay?" said Nate as he got out of the truck and trotted into the hotel. He came out a few seconds later with a garbage bag. Nate pottered around in the back of a pick-up for few minutes, Sophie unable to see what he was doing.

Then he opened her door and offered a hand to help her out of the truck. When she was standing on the pavement, he smiled and handed her the bag, full of her belongings.

"Sorry we lost your bag on your train. I guess I owe you one small suitcase, one pair of Jimmy Choos, and one pair of Manolos."

"I guess you do," she replied as she took the bag.

Nate put his hands in his pockets and took a step back. "Guess I'll be seeing you then."

"Yeah, call me anytime you need a grifter."

"You take care of yourself, Sophie," said Nate with a kind smile.

"I always do," she said as she turned and crossed the street. She didn't allow herself to look back until she'd stepped through the sliding glass doors of the hotel. She could still see Nate, standing where she'd left him, hands still in his pockets and shoulders slightly hunched.

Sophie shook her head and tried to remember if the ability to hold two contradictory ideas at the same time was the mark of a first-rate mind or just plain insanity. Looking at Nate Ford, knowing what she knew and how she felt about him, she suspected that maybe it was a bit of both.


End file.
